Diana's Child
by Taffia
Summary: Catalyne Mears has never been close to her family. She's wandered the US with her lupus aunt, learning the ways of the Garou. But when her father falls ill back home, she's thrust into memories she'd hoped to leave behind.
1. Homeward Bound

_Disclaimer: __The characters and plot herein are my own, though the concepts of the story, ect. are property of White Wolf._

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**Diana's Child**

The massive barroom was full of smoke, noise and the smells of cheap barbequed hot wings and sweat. The uninterested flitted about the pool tables and tiny dining areas, while the more rowdy and testosterone-pumped patrons flocked to the thing that dominated the center of everything: The Cage. Stainless steel chain-link, four layers deep and reinforced with solid steel beams, reached almost to the twelve-foot ceiling, another few layers of fencing capping it off. A single, small door was cut into the side, but it was commonly heavily padlocked when fights were going on within…as one was now. Rather, as one soon would.

A woman stood alone within awaiting her next opponent to volunteer for whatever fate may come, be it victory or absolute failure. Looking slightly older than her seventeen years, she was of average height with a physique and appearance that would make nearly any model think twice about their job…and pray that they could find a bodyguard or two. Even in her Glabro form, in human eyes, she was striking. Dressed in a black sport's bra and blue jeans and combat boots, she downed the remainder of her Coke as her one hand propped her up against the chain-link. She crushed the can with one hand as easily as one could crush an eggshell and pitched the small hunk of aluminum in the corner. It landed next to her massive labrys of silver adorned with Greek runes in bronze with a tinny clunk. Her now empty hand flicked the long, tight braid of reddish hair back over her shoulder before shoving itself into her pocket.

"They take too much time," she said lowly to a form near her on the outside of the cage. Her voice was cultured, though not accented. "I think, by this point, they all fear me, but they all seem so eager to see someone get maimed."

"They're only human, Catalyne," the figure replied in kind. The voice, accented from the Garou tongue, came from another woman, quite a bit older than the first with deep chestnut hair cut close to her head and brown eyes to match. She was plainly dressed in a bar employee tee-shirt and faded cut-offs. "Three fights already tonight. Just be grateful they don't truly suspect you to be something more…especially after what happened years ago. I never thought I'd say it, but the Namer knew what it was doing when strobe lights were invented. Not like an eleven-foot, charcoal gray Crinos with a battle-axe is easy to hide _anyway_…."

"That was far from here, Nika," Catalyne said back over her shoulder. "Rumors can go far, but they can just as easily be forgotten along the way."

"Whatever. I'm just grateful we left that particular fight arena far behind us in Monte Carlo. Though, I cannot say whether or not Miami will be much better."

Catalyne shrugged. "We'll soon find out, I suppose." She nodded in the direction of the door as a man that appeared to be a retired Marine was let inside, his homely face smirking as he cracked his knuckles. The young woman let her eyebrows rise and fall in a quick expression of indifference above her narrowed bluish green eyes. The man was too goddamned cocky; she could tell that already.  That, and the size of his gut revealed just about how long he'd been out of the service.

"You're the renowned 'Rose of Thorns'?" he asked as he tugged his cotton shirt off gracelessly.

"Maybe," was the trite reply, "but I see you've come to find out."

He stepped closer to her so that they were only a foot or two apart. "A woman's place isn't in the arena, girl. Besides, we wouldn't want to scar up that lovely face of yours, now, would we?" He patted her cheek half-mockingly.

It was a good thing that fights in this particular place began the instant the padlock was latched because Catalyne's rage instantly boiled over. Mentally, she warred with her self-control as, outwardly, three quick movements floored the prick of a man. She kneed him solidly in the groin as her right fist hooked up and under, connecting harshly with his jaw just before her left palm shot out, slamming into his sternum, sending him reeling backwards onto the padded cement and skidding into the far corner. His body flipped over his neck and head as he crashed into the chain-link and slumped into a heap, blood slowly oozing from a torn mouth.

"Don't even _think_ about touching me again, pig," she spat after several seconds when he struggled back onto his feet, wiping blood from his broken face. "There's far worse where that came from."

He let out a dry chuckle. "You think that I haven't already been through hell? I've seen battles that lowlifes like yourself can only picture in nightmares."

"A little young for the World Wars, aren't we?" she asked, her expression sweet and innocent looking.

It was his turn to fume. Stalking over, he feinted a punch to her face, which she believed, arching backwards just enough to put herself off-guard for the impact his other fist made to her exposed abdomen. Despite her upbringing amongst the Black Furies and her extensive training under Nika's supervision and teaching, Catalyne buckled over from the force of the blow, coughing a couple times and not really reacting even as an elbow slammed into the back over her neck. She collapsed to the floor and took a swift, hard kick in the ribs. A wave of booing rose up from the crowd gathered.

"I told you it was no place for a girl," the Marine sneered as he began to walk away, thinking he'd won. He was very wrong. Catalyne was good at faking things, too.

Leaping to her knees without the slightest trace of discomfort from what she'd just been through, she spun about on the balls of her one foot with great speed, swinging her one leg around to trip the retreating man while he was unaware. He was too close to the wall and caught himself quickly, turning around to glare at her.

"Bitch!" he shouted as she retreated back to her corner, crouched like a cat waiting to pounce on a rat, her arms out to the walls on either side, her glowering face shadowed. "Fight's over! I won!" He strode toward the door again.

"Like hell you did! Doesn't appear like I'm dead yet." She shoved herself from her position with her strong arms, vaulting up and through the air and landing lightly just a few steps from him. She kicked him roughly in the kidneys and pummeled him to the floor with her unrelenting fists, battling in her own mind yet again to maintain control of her body. Shifting in a place like this was hard to avoid but disastrous all the same. She let up when she heard him begin to whimper.

"Be glad it wasn't armed combat," she snarled as she got to her feet a cheer rising up from the crowd as an announcer proclaimed yet another victory for the 'Rose of Thorns'. "I would have killed you outright with that." She pointed casually to her labrys over her shoulder with her thumb. His dazed eyes rolled over to catch a brief glimpse of the fearsome weapon before closing in unconsciousness. Never had she needed to use that in such an environment…but she kept it close by just for effect. It came in handy for such things.

"It's one AM!" Nika's voice sounded from the speakers lining the walls of the barroom. "Closing time!" Some of the patrons grumbled at that while still others talked and laughed about the brawling they'd seen, now and again mimicking Catalyne's moves with aspiring hands and feet to add to their conversations. The young woman, herself, sat in her corner of the cage casually sipping at yet another Coke until everyone save the employees and a regular or two was gone. Soon, they were gone, too, and she let herself shrink back to her full Homid form and tugged on an oversized tee-shirt that said 'Men are Bastards. ALL of Them.' Settling her labrys on one shoulder, she walked out of her arena and over to the bar.

"I'm off," she said simply to Nika as the Garou wiped off the liquor-stained countertop. "It's another full day tomorrow."

"Don't remind me," Nika replied with a small half-smile as she handed Catalyne a wad of twenties. "Your winnings for the day. A grand total of eight-hundred-forty even." She eyed the other woman's labrys. "Perhaps, tomorrow, I'll bring mine as well, and we can actually put yours to good use with staged combat. Sound good to you?"

Catalyne's slender fingers flexed along the tooled leather handle. "Sounds perfect. I'll be in around three."

"Right. I'll see you then." And without further word, Catalyne left the bar and headed down the brightly lit city boulevard to her townhouse in an upper-middle-class residential zone near the beach. The air was salty and warm even for that hour, but a cool breeze was coming up from the sea. Catalyne tilted her head back a little bit to take it in, inhaling deeply the thick, bittersweet air with a smile on her face.

Leaving the brightly lit boulevards where the bars and nightclubs were situated, she turned northward onto a broad street lined with condos, the orange streetlights casting odd shadows everywhere. She mounted the steps leading to one of them, a large five-story structure with white doors into the apartments on either side of each landing. Three floors up, the leaned her labrys against the pale blue vinyl siding of the condo and fumbled about in her pocket for her keys.

"Well, if it isn't Cat and her big, nasty bat," she heard a familiar voice say behind her as she was unlocking her door. With a grin and a slight shake of her head, she turned around. There, standing just a few feet away, was her roommate, Tanya: a party-going twenty-year-old with the blonde hair and tanned skin stereotypically characteristic of those who spent most of their time soaking up the sun. She wasn't Garou, but Catalyne trusted her nearly as much as she would any Kinfolk, though not _entirely_.

"Your mom called," Tanya went on as the two made their way into the apartment, the woman tossing her purse and lightweight red vinyl jacket on a plush chair in the living room as Catalyne set her labrys lovingly on a stand in the corner of the dining area. "She wants you to come home or something. Your dad's sick in the hospital. Allegheny General, I think she said."

"Fuck," Catalyne muttered as she threw herself onto the couch and flicked on the wide-screen television. "I'll bet that bastard's drunk himself sick again. You know we never got on…."

"I know, but your mom sounded really worked-up about it. She wants you home."

"No, no, no…_this_ is home," she replied, pointing forcibly at the floor of the apartment. "Pittsburgh's just a place up in Yankville where I was raised for a year or two until Aunt Nika rescued me." Nika _was_ Catalyne's aunt…a single Garou in a family of Kinfolk that was now spread out all over the US…but that didn't mean that the family had really close bonds beyond blood.

"Should I call her back and say you won't be coming, then? Or would you rather do that?"

Catalyne shook her head, muting the late-night movie. She wasn't even paying attention to it, anyway. "I'll go, I suppose. I guess I owe the old man something, at least, for being partially responsible for my existence. If he's going to die on me, I don't want it to really be with us still on bad terms."

"Fabulous," Tanya said with quite a bit of enthusiasm. "I'll help you start packing. She wants you up there tomorrow, by the way. About how long will you be staying?"

The other shrugged. "A week, maybe. I really have no idea."

"I'll play it safe, then. I think enough for two weeks should be plenty…." And, even as she thought aloud, she wandered into Catalyne's bedroom and began rummaging through the dresser drawers and closet.

The girl sighed and rubbed a hand over her face as she gave up on the TV altogether, shutting it off with a click of the remote and a cosmic bleep from the set. Sometimes Tanya was _too_ good of a friend…and it didn't help matters any that she had almost always put family first, even if the family wasn't her own. She reached over for the cordless phone sitting on the coffee table nearby.

"Um…hi. When's the next flight to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania…?"

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

Catalyne Mears stepped from the cool, air conditioned air of the Pittsburgh International Airport into the explosive blast of heat and humidity of the parking lot outside. She had only just gotten off the phone with Nika, telling her that she wouldn't be showing up for work for an indefinite period of time. Between her over-caring nuclear family and the possibility of an upcoming funeral—her father had been diagnosed with third-stage pancreatic cancer (funny how she hadn't been informed of the first two stages…)—she wasn't exactly sure when she'd be back at all. Her mother would need someone there for a while, Catalyne's brothers all overseas either in the gay-assed War Against Terrorism or scheduled for random, long-term business trips.

Dragging her bulging, wheeled suitcase behind her, she strode over to one of the airport's many shuttles and boarded once she'd seen her luggage carefully stowed away beneath. It was an hour's ride to the stop near her family's home in Shadyside, and she left her things in the care of their housekeeper, the widowed Mrs. Wanda Davidson. She then hopped a bus to the hospital and found her father's room in the patient directory.

"Fucking eleventh floor," she muttered to herself as she began mounting the steps. The elevators just didn't move fast enough for her. After some minutes, she reached the floor she wanted. 1134…1136…aha! 1138. The door was already open, and she wandered in without so much as a second thought.

"Cat!" her mother exclaimed almost immediately as she rushed over and gathered the girl up in a lung-crushing hug. "I'm glad you made it up, sweetie."

Catalyne grimaced as she patted the woman's back, hearing the tears over the condition of her father rather than seeing them. "It was no trouble," she said lowly and uncertainly as she backed away from the older woman's embrace. "How's Dad?"

"Not good," Sandra Mears said truthfully. Her face was slightly anguished and her voice strained, but in actuality, she wasn't all that close to her husband. Their numerous children—out of eight, Catalyne was the only girl and the youngest—was the only real thing keeping them together. Sandra had always been quite the independent and viewed her spouse more like a friendly, distant cousin than anything else. "The doctors say they'll be surprised if he outlasts the night."

Catalyne looked over at her father's bed. The man simply lay there, tubes protruding from everywhere, his eyes closed, his chest barely moving as he breathed. He was hooked up to a respirator.

"Why all the equipment?"

"He had a stroke on top of a bit of a liver problem…" Sandra said in an almost embarrassed fashion. "The alcohol, you know. If it hadn't been for that, we probably would never have discovered that he had the cancer. You know how stubborn he is about his well-being."

"Figures," Catalyne responded emotionlessly. "I thought as such last night when Tanya told me about your call." She glanced up at the flickering television high up on a shelf across from the bed. Her father had fallen asleep in the middle of a Pirates game. Her oldest brother, Stephen, would have had a fit over that. Wouldn't have made any difference. That team was having a bad year.

"I'm going for a walk," she said after a minute or two of watching the game with the volume turned down nearly as low as it would go. "If Dad wakes up, give him a hug for me or something."

"You have your cell phone on you just in case?"

"Yes, Mom."

"You've enough money to get you dinner?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Your ID? The switchblade in your pocket? Bus fare?"

Catalyne sighed with exasperation. "_Yes_, Mom. I'll be back later tonight. Don't worry about me, for the love of everything holy. It's not like I don't know how to take care of myself or anything…. My labrys is at the house, too." She rolled her eyes and left, bound and determined to wander the city and purposely try to get herself lost like she used to when she still lived up here…and see if she couldn't find out why her sixth sense was suddenly nagging the living shit out of her.


	2. Little Wind

She'd been away from home for too long. Riding the bus through the streets of Pittsburgh that hot summer day, Catalyne found herself gaping at buildings she otherwise would have gone past without a second glance. Heinz Field and PNC Park were definitely new, built only recently while she and Nika were living in Florida. Seeing them suddenly brought a tugging feeling at the back of her throat. The Three Rivers Stadium was _truly gone. Somehow, she'd made herself believe otherwise. Maybe it was because that was the only thing she and her oldest brother had in common. They both really liked baseball and had gone to the Stadium all the time before Catalyne turned twelve…when Aunt Nika came and took her away._

She remembered that day very well. The private Catholic school she'd been going to sent her home early one final time accompanied by a note complaining about her 'sudden and sometimes uncontrolable spurts of rage against other students.' She hadn't _meant to dislocate the boy's arm and shatter half the bones in his wrist in the process. Honest. Besides, he'd insulted her honor by going on about how her parents were related by more than just marriage and that her entire family was inbred. It was true…to an extent…but he'd gone on and on about it as if they were West Virginians or something._

Mom had told Aunt Nika about it almost immediately, and the latter came for Catalyne mere days later from her—then—home in Monte Carlo. The girl had known some things about her family and the blood that coursed through them, but Nika knew a little bit more. She knew that Catalyne had more strength in her than most of the other family members and that it would have turned a bad situation at school into something far, far worse had it not been caught early on.

That's basically when it had all started. Nika would train the young Garou in as much of the ways of their kind as she could in the time before the first change occurred. Catalyne had learned how to fight like a proper Black Fury, learning to banish all her childhood fears, and had even gone with her aunt to the home of a distant cousin one day to have her labrys crafted by his expert hands. Silver and bronze and Greek in design, that had been her wish. And four years later is when the inevitable struck.

Right in the middle of a cage fight at Nika's club in Monte Carlo between Catalyne and a very drunk Hell's Angel, the young woman lost her cool and concentration. The strobe lights were going, hard rock was playing to deafening levels and the crowd was going wild. Catalyne felt herself growing and her skin prickling, but she didn't care. Her teeth grew sharp and long, but she hardly noticed. Her claws tore through the skin of the man's chest and he screamed, but all she knew was that he'd really pissed her off somehow. Moments later, the fight ended and the feeling passed. She was normal again, and the people about seemed completely confused about what had happened. But the damage had been done. 

Nika wouldn't risk staying there when the hospital checked out those wounds on the Hell's Angel even if his story was tainted by drunkenness. It wasn't worth it. The pair of women moved to Miami mere days later, Nika buying out an old bar down by the seafront and renovating it, setting it up like the one in Monte Carlo, Catalyne insisting on the inclusion of a Cage. Only through the fighting did she find a way to dull her mind to the painful memories of ridicule from her peers back in Pittsburgh. She had always been different, and both she and the others her age knew it. That wasn't where it ended, though.

Her father had always been the alcoholic, abusing his children every way under the sun—poor Catalyne most of all. Her mother had tried to stop things early on, but she was powerless against her Kinfolk husband. From those experiences, Catalyne had gained her fierce rage…and she hated her father for it. She couldn't wait for him to die.

The bus followed alongside the slightly tainted and broad Allegheny River for a while before cutting through the tall, close buildings of Downtown and heading east toward Oakland, Squirrel Hill and Shadyside. Shopping…that's what she'd do. It was a typical teenage girl thing, but she figured that anything that kept her mind off her usual life was a good thing right about then.

She stopped the bus in North Oakland, figuring on hitting the cultural stores along Craig Street first. From there, Squirrel Hill was a twenty minute walk at most and Shadyside a quick bus ride from there. She'd get lost later.

Perusing the small shops along the street, she stopped at the local, mostly empty Subway to grab a meatball hoagie before moving onto the more interesting places: the New Age shop full of books on paganism amongst other things, the Irish Design Center overflowing with imports of all kinds from the British Isles set up in a comforting, well-lit atmosphere, and the role-playing store just up the block that was just as over-stocked as when she'd last been in the small, house-like building. She bought a pewter clip for her hair from the Celtic place—she didn't really know why—before deciding to head on out to Squirrel Hill and the stores up in that direction.

She headed back southwest past Subway to Forbes Avenue, a busy four-laner of one way traffic, cutting across it to the modern looking Carnegie Museum of Art before heading due south to Schenley Park. She'd take the shortest route she knew off the sidewalks and away from the traffic and most of the crowds. She cut back to the thirty-six-story, gothic Cathedral of Learning on the University of Pittsburgh campus and passed the classic style Carnegie Music Hall and public library, getting herself on Schenley Drive that took her up past the glass domes of Phipp's Conservatory and into the park itself.

Somewhere along Panther Hollow Road, the street that led through the park's very center, that sixth sense of hers came back in hounding torrents of intuitive tuggings in certain directions. She stopped near one of the baseball fields and looked to her left, facing the north and all the trees. Something was in there. She could feel it down to the very core of her being, and it was calling to her. She tried to shrug it off and continue on her way, but mere paces later, she couldn't but halt again.

There wasn't anything but the wind in the leaves when she listened…but, still, there was something _there. Somewhere. Urging her to come to whatever it was wherever it was. She sighed, the paper bag in her hand making a slight crinkling sound as she clenched her fists. Staring at her black platform sneakers for a while, she made up her mind. With a nod to herself at a mental decision, she headed off the paved path through the park and into the trees._

Clothed as she was in her sneakers, a very baggy pair of jeans despite the heat and a plain, hugging blue tank top, she was careful when trudging through the underbrush, grateful that her long hair was pulled back in its usual braid. The leaves crunched like cereal beneath her feet as did the patches of grass when she came to them. It had been a bad summer here, abnormally hot and dry. No rain had fallen since April as far as her mother had told her over the phone once. It was now August, and, though the leaves were still green, they were obviously dead. The chlorophyll had most likely been mummified or something like it. Fall would be interesting to see, to say the least.

The feeling in her gut kept getting stronger with each step she took, a surreal notion coming to her brain that something other-worldly had somehow inhabited the park. She didn't know how else to explain it. The feeling was like one of an adrenaline rush tied to a feeling of coming home with a bit of fear on the side. It was comforting somehow, yet unnerving all the same.

"Ungh? You's got shinies!"

Catalyne stopped dead in her tracks at the sudden, uneducated female voice, a look of abject shock plastered on her face. Looking up, she discovered the source. 

A girl no older than she with waist-long black hair and eyes to match was squatting on a sturdy tree branch, holding to the limb above her with one arm. She was very small and slight of build with an angled face and sharp nose. She was somewhat pretty but not outstandingly so, and she was clad in a plain black baby-tee and flared blue jeans. Her feet were completely bare, the toenails painted black.

Without warning, she leaped from her branch—a full ten feet above the ground—landed as lightly as if she weighed next to nothing and ran up to Catalyne, eyeing the silver necklace at her throat with wide, greedy eyes and her lower lip between her teeth.

"You's got shinies," she said again, though much more quietly as she reached a tiny hand up as if to touch the dragon-shaped pendant that held all her attention.

Catalyne backed away, partially in disgust, partially in fear. "Who the hell are you?" she asked in angry curiosity.

The girl blinked as if having been released from a trance and dropped her hand back to her side, looking at Catalyne's face, this time, as if trying to figure out who she was looking at as well.

"Tuuli is my name," she said brightly, a wide smile suddenly spreading across her face. "Though most of the wolfies call me Little Wind. They seems to like it more." She giggled.

"What are you doing out here…in the trees…without…shoes?" Catalyne's voice slowed as her eyebrow went up, her attention once more on Tuuli's feet.

The girl's look became more discerning and thoughtful as she looked Catalyne over from head to foot and back again. It was almost as if she were trying to decide if she were someone worth telling something very important to.

"I live here," she said finally with a shrug, her expression quite unexpectedly sober given her previous attitudes.

Catalyne blinked in disbelief. "Why _here?"_

"Because I's in charge of helping guard the wolfies' place." Her tone was cheerful again and her little body stood poised as if with pride.

"Wolfies…." Catalyne's expression darkened in thought as she turned the word over and over in her mind, wishing that the girl spoke _proper English and not some queer variant thereof. Suddenly, it hit her. The tugging feeling, what she was, what all Nika had taught her, this girl popping out of nowhere claiming the park to be her home…the 'wolfies' place'. It all became clear. She was near a caern._

"Can I go to this 'wolfies' place'?" she asked innocently, already knowing the answer in her mind. She was Garou. Usually, all Garou could enter a caern in new territory. At least that's what Nika always said.

Tuuli's face appeared to be thinking again, the girl wrinkling up her nose as she crossed her arms over her chest, standing first on one foot then the other as her head cocked sharply to the side.

"I's thinks it's okay," she said at last, deciding to remain poised on her right foot with her arms randomly going out to the sides at shoulder height. She then dropped all her limbs and bounded up a leaf-covered bank. "It's this way! Follow me and you's won't lose your way, oh no!" She stood at the top of the rise and jumped up and down excitedly.

Catalyne couldn't help but chuckle a little at the girl's antics, following her guide as closely as she could as Tuuli skipped gaily off through the trees, not seeming to follow a path at all. All the Black Fury knew was that the tugging in her gut was back and still growing stronger.


	3. Shadow Wind

            It wasn't long before the trees thinned out, a small clearing becoming visible where more sunlight was able to pour down to the forest floor.  Stone slabs lay about in a very crude circle that most humans would never give a second glance to if they could ever actually get to this area uninvited.  Tuuli bounded forward and stood upon one, looking at Catalyne with a cheerful grin before turning around abruptly and letting out a shrill whistle with her fingers between her lips.

            Catalyne stood there for a while, transfixed, waiting for something to happen.  There was naught but silence as far as she could tell, but Tuuli turned back to her with an even broader grin.

"He's coming," she said lightly just before jumping into the air as if intending to get down from the large rock.  Instead, before she even began to fall, her body shrank considerably, her skin sprouting midnight black feathers, and within moments, she was flying up into the surrounding trees.

The young woman blinked.  Had Nika ever told her about something like that before?  Probably, but Catalyne never really had been one to remember everything said to her…especially if she'd rather be in the Cage making herself numb and oblivious to the world around her.

"A…raven?" she mused aloud, her voice confused and quiet as she peered into the green where Tuuli had vanished.

"Corax, actually."

She jumped at the voice and looked, wide-eyed, to where a dark-haired man now sat on one of the stones at the far side of the circle.  He reached out a hand to her with a small, sly half-smile.

"Come and sit, newcomer," he said gently, his deep brown eyes sparkling with mirth.  "Tell me your story."

Uncertainly, her teeth busy gnawing on her lower lip as her hardened heart seemed to grow weary within her, Catalyne did as he asked, taking a seat upon the slab opposite him.  She situated herself as he was almost like a reflex, cross-legged with her hands clutching her ankles, her jeans bunching up in her grasp.  He seemed friendly enough, his face handsome with high cheek bones, pale skin and a defined jaw under his aquiline nose.  His hair was long to his shoulders and shaggy as if it had almost never been brushed, his black tee-shirt and dark brown corduroys rumpled like he slept outside.  All he did was smile warmly at her, waiting patiently for her to respond.

"You want to know how I got here?" she asked at last, her voice somewhat hoarse.  She politely cleared her throat.

"That amongst other things," he said simply.  "You don't simply walk into a caern and expect to get by without at least identifying yourself…led here by a Corax or not."  That smile broadened, and she noted that there was something odd about his white teeth.  She couldn't put her finger on what it was just then, though.

"Um…well…" she began, at a loss for words for the first time in her recent memory.  "My name's Catalyne Mears, though many refer to me as the 'Rose of Thorns'…mostly because I trounce the asses of drunkards whenever they feel the need to prove some nonexistent point."

"Hmm," came the thoughtful sound as he nodded his head shallowly.  "You're Homid, then."

"You could say that, yeah."

"Tribe?"

That one she could answer with more confidence.  "Black Furies.  My aunt raised me as an Amazon of Diana, actually."

The man suddenly went to rub at his upper lip, his slender hand hiding whatever expression might be there.  Catalyne's first guess was that he had found that response of hers humorous, but, given as she figured this now to be the caern elder…or at least one of the higher-ups, she didn't say anything.  Her eyes narrowed, however, her rage beginning to simmer in the back of her mind.

"And I suppose that leaves you to be an Ahroun, then," he finished for her.  "Quite impressive, Rose of Thorns, if you can live up to it."

"I've proven myself," she muttered in return.

The half-smile was back as he shook his head.  "You've proven yourself in the eyes of men by fighting _against men.  Now that you're here among us"—he motioned out to the forest about them, and Catalyne half expected to see others come and join them—"you'll be facing much greater foes than drunkards in a half-dilapidated bar.  You must __become what you were set on this earth to __be."_

She merely blinked at him.  He seemed to be spouting out enigmas that could have been explained in much simpler terms.  What was she to become any more than what she already was: herself?  She remembered all of Nika's lectures about Gaia and the Litany and a bunch of other shit like that, but never once did the older woman say anything about changing what she was in the course of life beyond what the years would do on their own.

The man sighed and dropped his head a little, a few locks of hair falling into his eyes.  "What I'm saying is, are you willing to fight for Gaia instead of dollar bills and the pleasure of a crowd?  Are you ready to set all you had in the world of the mundane apes aside and join in the struggle for our survival in these End Times?  Would you be willing to follow your fellow Garou—even blindly—into whatever Fate has in store for our kind?"

Without really willing it to be so, she nodded her head a single time.  "I am and would," she said quietly, scaring herself.  Never in her life had she ever imagined that she'd have to make such a _commitment to anything, but those four words and the reaction the man gave her afterwards were somehow more fulfilling than any wad of hundreds that Nika would hand her after a night of solid cage battles.  That broad smile she saw on his face as he stood was enough to even make her mirror the expression.  She felt it only proper to rise as well._

"I am called Shadow Wind," he said to her, somewhat grandly, "Shadow Lord Theurge and elder of the Three Rivers Sept.  If the others were here, I'm sure they'd give you a hearty greeting."

"Where are they then?"  Her fear of the place had suddenly fled after the welcome.  It felt almost as if she were _meant to be here all along and she'd finally come home._

"Oh, various places.  Work, home, traveling…whatever they do during the week.  Friday is when we all come together to perform the tasks Gaia and Luna set before us.  And Helios in Tuuli's case."  The last was said as an afterthought.

"And what has been going on recently?"  It was a simple question, really, but Shadow Wind almost seemed impressed with it.

"Right to the thick of it, I see.  Well, Rose of Thorns, this city isn't as pleasant as it seems.  Of late, we've had problems with a renegade bunch of Settites.  They seem to be working together, but, at the same time, each action they carry out is on an individual basis—each leech seeking out his own fortunes and benefits with it all.  Our Fianna Theurge, Walks-in-Darkness, should be able to give you more detailed information if you so desire.  She and her pack are in charge of the investigations.  Beyond that, the only other things of interest to us are the ever constant threats from the Pentex company.  Of course, the branch here in the city is controlled by a man by the name of Edward Sinclair, the Archbishop of the local Sabbat."

"Ouch," Catalyne commented dryly.  "And the two problems are in no way connected?"

He shook his head.  "Not that we've noticed.  Going by what we know of these Settites, the Sabbat are hunting them down as readily as we are.  Talk to Walks-in-Darkness.  She'll be able to tell you everything.  We've had…our own troubles within the Sept as well.  I'm afraid my knowledge of what goes on has suddenly become very limited.

The young woman's brow furrowed, her lips pursing and partially opened as she tried to make sense of that.

"But you're the Sept _elder," she retorted.  "What could possibly go on within your own territory that you wouldn't hear about?"_

"It's unsafe to talk about it…here or anywhere close by."

The very tone of his voice was heavy enough to make Catalyne take a slight step backwards, instantly forgetting anything else she had wanted to say.  Shadow Wind's face had darkened, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to get away from there as fast as she could.  Fortunately enough, his anger was not directed at her but at some unknown, ignominious entity.  That thought still brought no comfort.

Shadow Wind suddenly whistled shrilly, the sound echoing through the park about them.  Moments later, a black form came swooping out of nowhere, alighting on the stone behind the Garou elder and squawking a single time before slowly shifting and growing into the familiar form of Tuuli.

"Little Wind," the elder said to the perky girl, "kindly direct Rose of Thorns back to where you found her."  He turned to Catalyne, then, his eyes filled with compassion but his face still stern.  "Again, welcome to the Sept.  But let me suggest to you this: if you plan on joining us on Friday, do not come here.  Head to the junkyard on the outskirts of town.  Tuuli can show you the way."  With that, he nodded to her in an action that portrayed slight respect and vanished off into the trees, the wind suddenly blowing to cover his tracks in the ground-lying leaves.

Tuuli watched after him for a time as Catalyne did before turning about, her smile as bright as ever.

"Shadow Wind's nice, he is, even though he's gone a bit loopy the past couple weeks.  Come with me.  I's show you back!"  She let out a childlike giggle and skipped off through the woods, Catalyne left to jog along behind, every now and again turning around, hoping for some kind of sign as to what problems within the Sept the elder had hinted at.

They reached Panther Hollow Road within minutes, Tuuli never slowing her pace nor relenting in her laughter.  Catalyne quickly found it annoying, though, the fact that the girl turned out to be a Corax really explained a few things—that annoying dialect of English, for example.  How the other Garou could stand it, _if they could indeed stand it, was beyond the young woman's comprehension._

"Here you go," Tuuli said, heaving a sigh but maintaining that hundred-dollar smile.  She hopped up onto a picnic table and looked around.  "Right back were I's be finding you."

Catalyne had a look around herself, not because she doubted the girl's observation, but because she just needed something to give her body to do while her brain churned through the past fifteen minutes.  A very _surreal fifteen minutes despite her upbringing with Nika and all the training of who she was and what she was capable of.  In all honesty, she'd never thought that, one day, she'd wind up as part of a caern._

"Thanks," she said at last to the Corax, looking up and managing to give the scrawny girl a grateful smile.  "Where should I meet you on Friday?  That's…" she checked her sport's watch more for her own knowledge than anything, "in three days."

Tuuli's face screwed up in exaggerated thought, her right leg bending at the knee so she was only standing on her left foot.  Her head shot from side to side as she tried to think of a decent spot, her black hair swirling and whipping into her knobby elbows.  She clicked her tongue and snapped her attention back to Catalyne.

"I'll find you," she said simply.  "There's nothing about this place that I's not be knowing about."  Her eyes seemed to go right back to the dragon pendant at Catalyne's throat.  "And…one of these days…."  But she didn't finish.  Instead, she faulted into the air much as she had in the clearing, shifted, and flew off back into the trees, Catalyne left to do nothing but stare after her.


	4. Walks in Darkness

"Hey, Rhian, hand me that crescent wrench, would ya?"

"Which pile did it get lost in this time?"

"Not a clue in hell.  Try over near the blow-torch."

"And that's…?"

"On the worktable somewhere."

"Right.  Cheers."

Rhian was at Shep's junkyard near the outskirts of town, helping him out with his projects as she usually did during the week.  Currently, she was being sent on a treasure hunt, however; and she knew it would take her a good while to find that single wrench.  The worktable she'd been directed to was virtually non-existent it was so buried in tools, unfinished inventions and metal scraps.  With a heavy sigh, the young Fianna raked slender fingers through her long black hair and set about her chore.

"Could you turn the radio on while you're at it?" Shep called from beneath the '77 Chevy pick-up he was fixing up, the Bone Gnawer's exposed legs clad in grease-stained, ripped blue jeans and worn hiking boots.

"Aye.  What station?"

"Eh…The X sounds good right about now."

"Right."  Absently, Rhian switched on the old radio situated on a dusty shelf and turned the dial until she heard the characteristic alternative rock The X was known for before going back to her first assignment, clanging things about in efforts to find that single tool.  She was used to Shep's methods of organization by this point—six months after she'd first met him after stepping off the naval vessel that brought her to New York from Cardiff.  The Big Apple wasn't where they'd met, though.  Rhian had come to Pittsburgh mainly for its size and majorly Irish/Welsh population.  To her, it was just an Americanized version of Cardiff.  She found the caern in Schenley Park with little trouble, integrating herself into the diverse cultural background of the Three River's Sept.

Finding the wrench, however, seemed to take much longer.

Finally, near the very bottom of a pile of tools at the rear of the table, her hand closed about the desired crescent wrench.  She immediately took it over to Shep and placed it in the big hand he extended from beneath the truck at her approach.

"Thanks," he said lightly, shifting a bit on the cement.

"Whatever happened to that tool-chest idea you had?" the young woman commented, crossing her toned arms over her over-sized Stone Temple Pilots: No. 4 tee-shirt, the sleeves rolled up atop her shoulders.  "You know, the one that would have plenty of accommodation for a thousand tools and then some?"  She cocked her head to the side and put all her weight on one hip.  Her Welsh lilt had that condescending playfulness to it that Shep couldn't help but chuckle at.

"It's on the back-burner.  Customers come first.  You know that."

"Aye, I do, but it would make things so much simpler.  And maybe things would actually get done on time for once."

Shep let out a single bark of laughter, his voice rumbling, "Very true.  Right.  Once this gets done, remind me, and we'll get to work on it."  He then set about singing along with the Creed song that suddenly popped on the radio as he tinkered away.

Rhian smiled and shook her head.  The Chevy was nowhere near being done.  It needed a complete overhaul and would take the other Garou at least until the end of the week to finish to his liking.  His father was a Glasswalker, and it really showed no matter how hard Shep tried to suppress it.  The odd-looking glove on his one hand was a dead give-away to those who knew what to look for.

Suddenly, the mobile phone hooked to her studded belt began to ring off the tune to 'Spectacular, Spectacular'.  With a sigh, she snatched it up and put it to her ear.

"'Lo?" she began, plugging her other ear to block out the sounds of the radio and Shep's clanging as she walked off deeper into the junkyard.

"Rhi, it's me.  Have you got a moment?"

"Gareth?"  Rhian's voice sounded relatively excited to hear that of the Kinfolk—one of her good friends still back in Wales.  "What's going on, man?"

"Nothing much really.  You remember those Earth's Banes?  That gang comprised of just Black Spirals that chased you onto the boat?"

The Fianna rolled her eyes.  "Fuckin' hell, Gareth, how could I _forget?  What of them?"_

"They're growing in number.  Dai just came back about an hour ago from scouting out the territory we'd stolen from them.  He spotted a group of about five hanging about the local off-licence."

"They didn't see him, did they?"

"We don't think so, like.  He's still in one piece and hale if not a trifle shaken.  The lads are getting sick of having to deal with the bastards, Rhi.  We don't have the funds to keep up our supply of silver bullets."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"Gareth, we're up to our necks in Snake shit about here, and you think I can tell you how to get rid of a handful of BSDs across the pond?  I know matters grow more dire by the day, but we've spread ourselves thin enough as it is."

"It's just a matter of telling, Rhian.  Not coming over here to deal with it head-on."  She could just tell by the sound of his voice that he was rolling his eyes.

"I'm meaning that my brain is burnt out, Gareth.  The best I can do is tell you to do your utmost to get your hands on anything silver you can make bullets from.  That's the extent of my capabilities at present."

"Understood…but _you're the Garou.  Where do they keep coming from?"_

"The Black Spiral Labyrinth, of course."

"But where around _here?  Cymru is practically devoid of Garou, Rhian."_

The young woman paused.  He was right.  What Garou there actually were in Wales were few and far between, most going to the cities in England to combat the Wyrm where it was at its worst.  That, apparently, had left the entire country vulnerable.  The sudden influx of Black Spiral Dancers, however, was unexplainable.  Surely, what Garou there were in the British Isles wouldn't _all be so mentally weak to fall for such dark insanities.  If it was really as bad as Gareth was saying, there was something seriously wrong going on back home._

"I couldn't honestly tell you, Gareth," she said finally, truthfully.  "Just mind yourself.  BSDs don't _just go after other Garou to join their ranks.  Kinfolk are just as wanted by them.  If matters there worsen, I'll be on the first plane back.  Until then, though, I'm needed here to help deal with a Leech epidemic."_

"'Course," he replied, sounding almost glum.  "I'll let the rest of The Metallers know then.  The other gangs in this city may fall, but we won't go down easily.  I promise you that, Rhi."

Rhian couldn't help but smile.  The Metallers were her own gang back home that Gareth was in charge of until her return.  Thus far, they were the only ones able to really stand up to the Earth's Banes without running in terror…just because they knew things that other humans didn't.  The Fianna and her Kinfolk friend had made certain of that, deviously leaving out as many of the details as was possible.

"I know, man," she said.  "And I'll do my best to get all this resolved as quickly as I can.  I can't be in two places at once—even with the aid of the Umbra.  I should get going, though.  Shep's probably wondering where I buggered off to."

Gareth chuckled.  "Right.  You take care of yourself, then, like.  I'll talk to you later."

"You, too.  _Ta-ra__."  She pulled the phone away from her ear and shut it off.  Spreading her fingertips over her finely-arched black eyebrows and down the sides of her face in a gesture of agitation, she made her way back to where Shep was now standing, rummaging through his piles of tools and junk for something else that he needed._

"What happened?" he asked, his high brow furrowing when he saw the serious expression on her pretty face.  "Who was on the phone?"  He set down whatever he was holding and wiped his greasy fingers off on his already filthy white undershirt.  He looked much younger and fitter than any man his age—fifty-four—should have been.  From any mundane being's viewpoint, he actually couldn't have appeared any older than forty.  It was an uncommon trait even for Garou who could outlive the oldest humans given the right circumstances.

His wavy hair was a deep chestnut streaked with hints of grey along the temples, and he kept it cut close about his ears.  His face was chiselled and angular, gaining laugh-lines at the corners of his hazel eyes and a few running across his forehead and around his full-lipped mouth.  He flexed the hand contained in the black glove on his right hand, the muscles in his forearm rippling a bit with the action.

Rhian shrugged as she came nearer to him.  He was much taller than she, though most people tended to be.  She wasn't even average, but Shep was easily close upon seven feet tall.

"It was Gareth," she stated, her voice emotionless.  "Cardiff's got a bigger BSD problem than ever, it seems."

"Those Earth's Banes you told me about before?"

"Aye, them."

"I thought you got rid of them all…or at least most.  What did he say they were doing?"

She shrugged again.  "He's still not entirely sure, but he says there are more of them, now, then there ever were.  We can't figure out where they all came from."

Shep let loose a low, dry chuckle.  "You'd be surprised.  They're BSDs.  They can come out of anywhere…and usually where you least expect them to.  They're minions of the Wyrm, and he continues to grow stronger even as we speak."  He began to go back to his work, paused, and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"You're not planning on going back _now are you?"_

Rhian shook her head vigorously.  "No.  My gang can take care of themselves for the time being—I know them.  Besides, I've got things anchoring me down here too heavily at the moment.  Our lovely vampire friends for starters."

"Any one in particular?"  His mouth curled into a wry smile, causing Rhian to blush furiously.

It was an odd situation, really.  Odd and downright insane, but Shep and Rhian had landed themselves in the thick of it, both unintentionally.  The vampire in question was named Simon Pierce—or 'Nice Guy Sy' to his friends—who had been like a son to Shep for years while the two of them had still lived in New York City.  Five years ago, though, Sy and his late girlfriend got into an unfortunate car accident when the twenty-four-year-old man had swerved to avoid a man that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the highway.  Rachel, his girlfriend, didn't make it through that harrowing experience, and Sy…Sy found himself in a whole new ballgame.  Embraced and very much alone.  The man who'd caused the accident turned out to be a Setite who was only known by his surname: Robertson.  Simon had refused to say any more on the matter to Shep, and that had been all of five years ago.

Since then, Shep had come to Pittsburgh just for a change of scenery, Sy staying in the Big Apple to carry out his heroine and illegal arms ring while doing a bit of unwilling underling work for his sire on the side.  Sickened by the thoughts of his slowly receding humanity, the young man had come in search of Shep, meeting Rhian in the process.  And Rhian—poor Rhian—had never seen or met a vampire in her life until that point.  She didn't even realize that Sy was corrupted so until after a very interesting morning of fever while sweating blood.  Shep quickly informed her that leeches only had _one body fluid and that it was one that Garou just couldn't tolerate under any circumstances._

"He'd come if I asked him to," she replied.  "You should know that just as well as me.  No, it's the _others that I'm referring to.  The Serpents of the Light…at least, that's the group my pack's investigations have brought into the open."_

"Walks-in-Darkness!"

Rhian and Shep both spun at the new voice.  There, running toward them from the junkyard entrance, was Tuuli, her hair streaming behind her and her feet as bare as always.

"What is it?" Rhian answered, shielding her eyes from the sudden sunlight as it peeked out from behind the thick matting of clouds above.

"Shadow Wind told me to come and find youse.  Another came—a wolfie lady with an attitude.  Rose-of-Thorns is her name."

The Fianna regarded Tuuli oddly, her head cocked to the side and one eyebrow raised.  "What has that to do with me?"

"She wants to help you kill the vampies!"  The child-like Corax giggled and poised herself on one foot, slowly teetering from side to side with her arms spread out.

Rhian let out a single, amused breath that was supposed to pass for a bit of a laugh.  "She'll have to wait a bit, then.  We haven't finished investigating the situation."

"Doesn't matter," Tuuli replied with a smile and a shrug.  "All the vampies are supposed to die.  That's what the wolfie Litany says, anyway."

"'Combating' isn't the same as killing."

Shep immediately cleared his throat, making Rhian start and look at him.  He shook his head with a stern look on his face.  Only three knew about her and Sy, and the Bone Gnawer planned on keeping it that way for the sake of the two souls he cared about most…regardless.  Due to it all, though, Rhian's devious mind had already begun bending the literal meanings of the Garou Litany to suit her lifestyle.

"Whatever," Tuuli replied indifferently, dropping her leg and arms.  "All I was supposed to do was tell youse.  Well, I's done that.  Bye!"  With that, she hopped up into the air, shifted, and flew off high into the sky, escaping the heat and metallic odor of the gravelled junkyard.

Rhian just stared after her for a while as Shep turned to go about his work on the Chevy once more, prying open the hood of the brownish, rusty old pick-up to fiddle around with the still fine engine underneath.  He started humming Queen's 'Who Wants to Live Forever?' for no apparent reason.

"Well, that's one more person for me to be cautious around," the young Garou muttered.

"Who?" Shep asked, breaking the melody.

"This 'Rose-of-Thorns'.  Who do you think she is?"

The man chuckled.  "With a name like that and from what Tuuli said about the 'attitude', I wouldn't be expecting any less than a female Get, a Fianna or a Fury.  Pure and simple.  But, you're right.  I'd be minding my words and actions if I were you.  Not just around the newcomer, either.  In case you've forgotten, the caern just welcomed that whole Strider pack a few weeks ago."

"I stay away from them as it is."  She finally pulled her gaze from the azure sky filled with cottony white clouds and regarded her good friend.  Even after these six short months, he was like the father she'd lost.  He looked out for her at every turn and supported her every step of the way despite her sometimes rash decisions and the fact that her sole love interest was a leech.  She had to smile at that.  People like that in her life were rare to nonexistent.

"You can't hide forever, Rhian.  I know the whole problem amidst the Sept gives you an easier chance to keep your goings on safe from the prying eyes of the others, but suspicions arise from such things.  Carter has already asked me about you."

Rhian's eyes snapped open wider as her entire body stiffened.   Of all the Garou in the Sept, she loathed Carter the most…for reasons she couldn't quite place.  From the very beginning, there was some unspoken animosity between them, and they avoided interaction as often as possible.

"What did he want to know?"

Shep shrugged.  "Just where you were at that particular time.  I think he may have wanted to talk to you about something.  It was a couple of days ago, and I'm sure you'll bump into him on Friday and find out what exactly he was up to."

The Fianna groaned and raked a hand through her hair, clutching onto a clump of it midway back her scalp.  Between Carter's tribe, harsh persona and split personalities, she really didn't want to find out what it is he wanted to talk to her about.


End file.
